She shook her head at the mutts. “That’s what you three are.”
Gator, the Lab, Frisco, an Australian shepherd mix, and Abigail, a Chihuahua, scurried from their hiding place and padded into the house behind her. That first cup of coffee was long gone, and the lingering scent of the seasoned scrambled eggs she’d turned off fifteen minutes ago had her stomach rumbling. The enemy’s arrival had interrupted her peaceful morning.
With her shotgun propped in the corner near the kitchen table, she adjusted the flame beneath the skillet to warm up the eggs. Another more pungent odor sifted through her preoccupation with the sharp gnawing pains in her belly. Smelled like something scorched …
“My biscuits!” Sadie grabbed a mitt and yanked the oven door open. “Well, hell.” Not exactly burned but definitely well done and probably as hard as rocks. She plopped the hot tray on the stove top and tossed the mitt aside. How could a grown woman screw up a can of ready-to-bake biscuits? “One who’s spent her whole life in the barn,” she muttered.
Her mother had passed away before Sadie was old enough to sit still long enough to learn any culinary skills. The rodeo was all her father had bothered to teach her, and most of the lessons she’d gleaned were ones she wanted to forget. Gus Gilmore was heartless. But then, she’d understood that by the time she was fifteen. He’d tried to keep her away from her grandparents when she was a kid, but she always found a way to sneak in a visit. He had worked overtime to keep her away from everything she loved until she was twenty-one. That date had been more than a significant birthday; it had been her personal independence day. Prevented from taking anything from her childhood home other than the clothes on her back, she’d walked into the lawyer’s office and claimed the inheritance her grandparents had left for her—despite Gus’s every attempt to overturn their will—and hadn’t looked back.
Nineteen months later she had created the life she wanted, just outside her father’s reach yet right under his nose. They had been at all-out war since. Fact was, they had been immersed in battle most of her life. The stakes had merely been upped with her inheritance. Gus, being an only child, had assumed he would inherit the small five-hundred-acre ranch that adjoined his massive property. But life had a way of taking a man down a notch or two when he got too big for his breeches.
Sadie poured a second cup of morning-survival liquid and savored the one thing in the kitchen she was pretty good at—rich, strong coffee. She divided up the eggs and biscuits with her worthless guard dogs and collapsed at the table. Mercy, she was running behind this morning. If that low-down Sizemore hadn’t shown up, she would be feeding the horses already instead of stuffing her face.
First things first. She had to calm down. The animals sensed when she was anxious. And fueling her body was necessary. Gus’s pals had intimidated the last of her ranch hands until they’d all quit, leaving Sadie on her own to take care of the place. She didn’t mind doing the work, but there was only so much one woman could do between daylight and dark. She’d narrowed her focus to the animals and the necessary property areas, such as the barn and smaller pasture. Everything else that required attention would just have to wait. Things would turn around eventually. As long as she was careful, her finances would hold out. Between the small trust her grandparents had left and donations for taking care of her rescues from generous folks, she would be okay in spite of her daddy’s determined efforts to ensure otherwise.
Gator and Frisco stared up at her from their empty bowls. Abigail stared, too, but she hadn’t touched her biscuit. Not that Sadie could blame her. Maybe her ranch hands had fled for parts unknown to escape her cooking. Sadie didn’t like to waste anything, unlike Gus, so the dogs were stuck with her cooking until she figured out how to prepare smaller portions.
Before she could shovel in the final bite of breakfast, all three dogs suddenly stilled, ears perked, then the whole pack made a dash for the front door. Sadie pushed back her chair, her head shaking in disgust. If Gus had decided to show up in person and add his two cents’ worth, he might just leave with more than he bargained for. Or maybe less, depending upon how well her trigger-finger self-control held out.
Shotgun in hand, she marched to the door and peeked out around the curtains her grandmother had made when Sadie was a little girl. The black truck wasn’t one she recognized. Too shiny and new to belong to any of the ranchers around here, at least the ones who actually worked for a living. Ten or so seconds passed and the driver didn’t get out. The way the sun hit the windshield, it was impossible to tell if the driver was male or female, friend or foe.
She opened the door and the dogs raced toward the truck, barking and yapping as if they were a force to be reckoned with. If the driver said a harsh word, the three would be under the porch in a heartbeat. Sadie couldn’t really hold it against them. All three were rescues. After what they’d gone through, they had a right to be people shy.
With the shotgun hanging at her side, she made it as far as the porch steps when the driver’s door opened. Sadie knew the deputies in Coryell County. Her visitor wasn’t any of them. A boot hit the ground, stirring the dust. Something deep inside her braced for a new kind of trouble. As the driver emerged her gaze moved upward, over the gleaming black door and the tinted window to a black Stetson and dark sunglasses. She couldn’t quite make out the details of the man’s face, but some extra sense that had nothing to do with what she could see set her on edge.
Another boot hit the ground and the door closed. Her visual inspection swept over long legs cinched in comfortably worn denim, a lean waist and broad shoulders testing the seams of a shirt that hadn’t come off the rack at any store where she shopped, finally zeroing in on the man’s face just as he removed the dark glasses.
The weapon almost slipped from her grasp. Her heart bucked hard twice then skidded to a near halt.
Lyle McCaleb.
“What the … devil?” whispered past her lips.
Unable to move a muscle, she watched in morbid fascination as he hooked the sunglasses onto his hip pocket and strode toward the house—toward her. Sadie wouldn’t have been able to summon a warning that he was trespassing had her life depended on just a simple two-letter word. The dogs growled while matching his steps, backing up until they were behind their master.
“Sadie.” Lyle glanced at the shotgun as he reached up and removed his hat. “Expecting company?”
As if her heart had suddenly started to pump once more, kicking her brain into gear, fury blasted through her frozen muscles. “What do you want, Lyle McCaleb?” Somehow, despite the outrage roaring like a swollen river inside her, the words were frail and small. It still hurt, damn it, after all these years, to say his name out loud.
“Seeing as you didn’t know I was coming, that couldn’t be for me.” He gave a nod toward her shotgun.
This could not be happening. Seven years he’d been gone. This was … this was … “I have nothing to say to you.” She turned her back to him and walked away. Who did he think he was, showing up here like this after all this time? It was crazy. He was crazy!
“I know I’m the last person on this earth you want to see.”
Her feet stopped when she wanted to keep going. To get inside the house and slam the door and dead-bolt it.
“We need to talk.”
Sadie closed her eyes. Why was she standing here listening to anything he had to say? This was crazy all right. Crazy of her to hesitate like this. Hadn’t she been a fool for him one time too many already?
“It’s
